


Anyway, Here's Wonderwall

by barbaXcarisi (barbaXbenson)



Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: Brief mention of statutory rape, Developing Relationship, Light Smut, M/M, musician au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-22
Updated: 2018-07-22
Packaged: 2019-06-14 18:24:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15394746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/barbaXbenson/pseuds/barbaXcarisi
Summary: The man was still there when Sonny finished his set and as he walked over to the bar to get his free drink—the one and only perk he received for being the Tuesday night house musician here at Fin’s—he realized exactly why he recognized him. It was Rafael Barba. He looked different now, the eyeliner was gone and so was the long hair—done now in a short swoop, laced with gray—but it was him.Sonny’s heart sank into his stomach. Rafael Barba. The lead singer of Jerome Avenue. The man whose song lyrics and vocals had been the soundtrack to Sonny’s teen years had watched him perform for half a dozen uninterested college kids. And he’d done the most cliche, pandering set possible.  He had the urge to turn back, grab his guitar, and leave from the sheer humiliation of it all, but Barba had spotted him and now it would be even more embarrassing not to complete his walk to the bar.





	Anyway, Here's Wonderwall

**Author's Note:**

> This was a follower appreciation prompt that was supposed to be drabble, but we all know how good I am at keeping things short. 
> 
> Special thanks as always to power-bottom-barba for working through this with me and listening to me whine.
> 
> AvidReader70, I hope this is what you were looking for! <3

The man at the bar looked familiar. Sonny had seen him somewhere before, he was sure of it. He just couldn’t place him. Was he that A&R guy that he’d met a few months back? His palms started to sweat at the possibility. 

“Play something!” A deep voice, laced heavily with alcohol, yelled from the back of the room and Sonny realized it had been entirely too long since he’d ended his last song. There’d been nothing but silence for the last minute or so and the already not-so-welcoming crowd was growing even more restless.

Sonny wiped his left hand on the thigh of his jeans, trying to dry it off the best he could and placed his fingers over the strings of his acoustic guitar. “Sorry about that, folks. Anyway, here’s ‘Wonderwall,’”

He watched as the man at the bar rolled his eyes so hard that it nearly shifted the tilt of the Earth on its axis and he immediately regretted the choice. But it was too late now. The mention of the song had actually garnered a smattering of applause. He pulled his eyes away from the man and played the opening chords.

The man was still there when Sonny finished his set and as he walked over to the bar to get his free drink—the one and only perk he received for being the Tuesday night house musician here at Fin’s—he realized exactly why he recognized him. It was Rafael Barba. He looked different now, the eyeliner was gone and so was the long hair—done now in a short swoop, laced with gray—but it was him.  

Sonny’s heart sank into his stomach. Rafael Barba. The lead singer of Jerome Avenue. The man whose song lyrics and vocals had been the soundtrack to Sonny’s teen years had watched him perform for half a dozen uninterested college kids. And he’d done the most cliche, pandering set possible.  He had the urge to turn back, grab his guitar, and leave from the sheer humiliation of it all, but Barba had spotted him and now it would be even more embarrassing not to complete his walk to the bar.

He leaned his elbows on the bar, asking Amanda, who worked the bar every Tuesday night, for a beer, feeling Barba’s eyes still on him.

“Nice set.” It was gruff and dripped with sarcasm, but the “Thanks,” was out of Sonny’s mouth before he could stop it. A polite reflex his mother would be proud of, but only made him cringe in this instance.

Sonny turned with his beer and caught the remnants of a smirk on Barba’s face before he sipped the amber liquid in his glass. He was torn between hightailing it out of there, escaping with what was left of his dignity, and taking probably the only opportunity he’d ever have to tell one of his heroes what he meant to him.

He glanced over Barba, started to open his mouth, but shook his head and started to walk away. He’d made it two steps before he froze, turning back around to walk back to the bar. Barba, still holding his glass, looked somewhat amused.

“Yes?”

“I know you were makin’ fun of me or whatever, but I wanted to tell you that you were a big inspiration to me and I loved your music and even if you thought I was cliche or bad or whatever, it’s still an honor to have had you watch my set.” He said it all in one breath, the words practically blending together they came out so fast, and he turned on his heel and stalked away before the other man could have a chance to say anything in response.

In the time it took to walk back to the small stage, situated almost as an afterthought in the corner of the bar, he’d drained his beer. Ears and cheeks burning, he grabbed his guitar case and headed for the door, careful not to look back over at the bar.

* * *

He was back. Sonny did his best to ignore him as he settled onto the wobbly stool and adjusted the mic stand, but he could feel green eyes on him from across the bar. Didn’t someone as rich and famous as Rafael Barba have anything better to do than to hang out at a dive bar on Tuesday nights?

It was exciting to have him there, just to be in the same room with his musical hero was thrilling, but it was also nerve-racking. He’d been playing this Tuesday night slot at Fin’s for over a year and it had become routine, but now, with Rafael Barba in attendance, his heart sped up and his palms grew sweaty.

It was invigorating.

As he finally got everything situated, he made eye contact with Rafael and his hands paused on his guitar. He couldn’t do another tired, pandering set. He didn’t think he could suffer that embarrassment again. So instead he went with a song that was more in line with what he actually enjoyed performing, “Ho Hey,” by the Lumineers, followed by one of his originals. He’d never performed it in public before, but he felt a grin tugging at the corner of his lips when he saw that Rafael had perked up, setting his glass on the bar so he could give Sonny his full attention.

The rest of his set went in the same vein, indie covers mixed in with a couple more of his originals, and the small crowd actually seemed into it. Not that it mattered. At the end of his set, he only cared about the opinion of one member of the crowd, and Sonny felt something flutter in his belly when he saw that not only was Rafael clapping, albeit reluctantly, but that he also had a grin on his face. Well, it was probably closer to a smirk, but Sonny was going to go with grin.

He tried to give off a casual air as he made his way over to the bar, stopping near enough to Rafael, but still maintaining a bit of distance, and resting his forearms on the wooden top.

Amanda slid his IPA across the bar to him without him even asking. “That was different than what you usually do,” she commented, her tone even, with no indication whether she thought it had been better or worse.

“Thought I’d mix things up,” he said, shrugging a shoulder and taking a sip from his beer bottle.

“Cool,” she said, once again with no emotion behind it, moving down the bar to help the one other person looking to order.

Sonny pulled a few bucks from his pocket and set it on the bar for her tip. His beer was free, but he knew Amanda had a daughter at home and Tuesday nights were slow. He liked to help out when he could. He didn’t always have the few dollars to spare, but he’d just started playing the Friday slot at a bar in the East Village and it actually paid pretty decent.

Unable to stall any longer, he turned to his right where Rafael was once again looking him over.

“So?” Sonny asked a minute later when the man still hadn’t said anything, unable to take the unnerving silence.

“Not bad,” Rafael said, finishing off his glass of scotch and signalling Amanda for another. She set the tumbler in front of him with a wink and Sonny’s mouth nearly dropped open. Rafael just smirked at him and took a sip. “That second one, that was yours, wasn’t it?”

Sonny nodded. “Yeah, just wrote it last week.”

“It was pretty good,” Rafael commented. “Rough, but good.”

Sonny’s beer bottle paused on the way to his lips. “Rough?” He should have just taken the compliment, but he was never one to do so easily. Instead he focused on the qualifier.  

“Well, the bridge could use some work, and that opening chord progression…”

“What about it?” It was immediate and instinctual to be defensive, but when Rafael stayed silent, Sonny thought about it, tilting his head back and forth. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

“Usually am,” Rafael smirked into his glass.

Sonny couldn’t fault him for being smug, he had the credentials—and the Grammys—to back it up. A thought occurred to him and his heart thumped at even the idea of asking. But honestly, when would he ever get a chance like this again. He took a gulp of his beer, needing all the courage he could get. “You wouldn’t, uh, want to work on it with me, would you?”  

Rafael didn’t turn him down immediately, which is what Sonny had expected, instead, he stared at him with that intense green gaze, his fingertip tapping lightly on the side of his glass, contemplating. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he spoke, “Sure, why not?”

“Really?” Sonny blurted before he’d even realized it. He hadn’t thought there was a chance in hell that he’d actually say yes.

“It’s not like I have much else going on these days,” Rafael muttered, taking another drink of his scotch.

Jerome Avenue had broken up nearly a decade ago for reasons that had never fully been explained to the public. There’d been the typical press release with phrases like ‘temporary hiatus,’ ‘solo projects,’ etc… but there was a lot of speculation about infighting and jealousy, mostly surrounding Rafael and the band’s bassist, Alex Muñoz, though none of it had ever been confirmed.

Considering how long it had been, with not even a hint of a reunion, Sonny was inclined to believe that the hiatus wasn’t a hiatus at all, but a permanent break, which meant that there was probably more to it than a desire to work on their own projects.

This seemed especially true considering that not a single member had released any music since. Rafael wrote and produced for other artists, while Alex and their third member, Eddie Garcia, seemingly fell off the face of the planet. Even when those Where Are Your Favorite 90’s Pop Stars Now?? Articles popped up, the only one ever mentioned was Rafael.

And even his notoriety had started to fade. It had been years since Sonny had come across any writer or producer credits with his name attached. So maybe that was why he was agreeing to write with a musician he’d met exactly two times and didn’t know at all.

Either way, Sonny wasn’t going to pass up the opportunity. “Great! A buddy of mine lets me use a little studio of his near Union Square on Thursdays. We could meet up then. Um, if you’re not busy,” he added quickly.

“Thursday works,” Rafael said without even checking his phone and Sonny thought that maybe things were pretty dire for the man if he didn’t even have to think about whether or not he was busy.

“Okay, great. Um, I can give you my number or…” Sonny trailed off, not sure how one exchanged information with a famous rock star. Maybe he’d have to go through his management or something.

“Oh, here,” Rafael reached to an inside pocket of his leather jacket and pulled out a business card, handing it to Sonny. “Just text me the info.”

Sonny held the card in both of his hands, unable to help the laugh the bubbled out of him.

“What’s funny?”

He shook his head. “I’m sorry. It’s just I wouldn’t ever imagine you carrying around business cards. It seems so...part of the establishment.”

“Yeah, well, if you want to be a part of this business you’ll learn that you either have to become part of the establishment or become irrelevant. And sometimes you become both.” Rafael drained his glass, tossed a fifty dollar bill onto the bar, and stood. “See you Thursday.”

* * *

Sonny arrived at the studio early on Thursday, anxious and excited to work with Rafael. He’d been waiting on the other man to cancel, but so far he hadn’t. It was still surreal, having even met Rafael, but the fact that he’d agreed to work with him was mind blowing.

He pulled out his laptop and notebooks, and flipped switches and turned dials on the mixing console, so it would be ready in case they decided to record something. And when he ran out of things to nervously fidget with he pulled his guitar from its case.

It didn’t take long to lose himself in the music, his fingers moving over the strings effortlessly, the nerves he’d been feeling gone. He didn’t know quite how long he’d been playing when a noise from the doorway caused him to spin in his chair.

Rafael was standing there at the bottom of the stairs, holding a guitar case and leaning a shoulder against the wall as if he’d been there for a while. There was a look on his face that Sonny couldn’t quite place.

“Oh, hey,” Sonny said with a somewhat embarrassed smiled. “I didn’t know you were here.”

Rafael pushed off of the wall and made his way into the room. “This place is...interesting.”

Sonny glanced around at the dingy concrete walls, the recording booth that was no bigger than a shower stall, the small mixing booth and the leather couch that was ripped with stuffing sticking out of it.

“Yeah,” Sonny scratched the back of his neck. “My buddy fixes things around the building for free and in return they let him keep this stuff down here. It’s not much, but it’s better than nothing.”

“It’s about all you need these days to make a hit record,” Rafael said generously, setting his guitar case on the couch and flipping open the latches.

“You think we can?” Sonny asked. “Make a hit record, I mean.”

“Maybe not today,” Rafael answered, pulling the guitar from its case and situating himself on the couch, resting the beat up acoustic across his lap.

Sonny’s eyes widened when he took in the guitar. “Holy shit! That’s Catalina.”

“You know about that?” Rafael asked and it was the first time Sonny had heard him sound modest.

“Everyone knows about that,” Sonny blurted before realizing that no, everyone probably did not know about Rafael’s favorite guitar. Sure, anyone who had followed the band closely knew that Rafael’s grandmother had given him the guitar when he was 12, that he’d learned to play on it and had written every Jerome Avenue album on it, but the average fan probably did not. He hoped it didn’t make him seem like a crazed fan.

“I can’t believe you still play it,” he continued before Rafael had too much time to think about it. “Isn’t it too valuable to carry around?”

Rafael shrugged and said simply, “She wanted me to play it.”

Suspecting he wouldn’t get anything more than that, Sonny reached over to where he’d left his notebook on the edge of the console. “So, uh, you wanted to work on the one from the other night, right?” He asked, flipping through the pages of the well-worn notebook.

“Actually, that bridge kind of wouldn’t leave me alone, so I jotted down what I thought it could be.” Rafael pulled a folded up piece of notebook paper from the back pocket of his black jeans and handed it over.

Something inside of Sonny fluttered at the idea of Rafael thinking about his song so much that he had to work on it, that he remembered the song well enough to add to it on his own. His hands shook a little as he unfolded the paper and he only hoped that Rafael didn’t notice.

As he read over the lyrics, he realized two things: it was perfect, exactly what the song needed, and he would never be as good as Rafael. “This is incredible.”

“It’s okay,” Rafael hedged and again it was a surprise to see the modesty from him. “We can rework it if you want, but I think it goes better with the metaphors you build in the verses.”

Sonny nodded, “You’re completely right. Let’s try it.” He sat the paper down and plucked at his guitar strings, starting in the middle of the song, at the chorus, flowing into the bridge.

“Actually, I was wrong,” Rafael said when Sonny finished. “It’s pretty fucking great.”

Sonny laughed. That was the Rafael Barba he’d come to know. “I worked on that for days and it just came to you like that.” He snapped his fingers. “I can’t believe you ever stopped writing.”

“Who said that I did?”

“Oh, well, I just hadn’t—”

Rafael shook his head. “Just because people aren’t buying the songs anymore doesn’t mean I’m not writing them. Everything has changed so much. The music I write—it’s not really what artists are looking for these days.”

“So, why don’t you record them?” Sonny asked before he could stop himself.  “We’ve all been waiting years for you to put something out.”

Rafael huffed a laugh that was closer to a scoff. “I think that group is smaller than you think. Besides,” he added, “I never wanted to be a solo artist. It wasn’t about that for me.”

“So those ‘solo projects’ you all wanted to work on,” Sonny asked with half a grin.

“It was all bullshit,” Rafael answered, waving a hand. He looked at Sonny for a moment and Sonny shifted under his scrutinizing gaze. Finally, he seemed to make a choice. “You want the truth?”

“Yeah, if you’re willing to share it.” Sonny knew it was a big deal that Rafael was trusting him like this. The real story of why Jerome Avenue had broken up had to be something bad if everyone had lied to cover it up and for all Rafael knew, Sonny could sell that story to make a quick buck or to even earn a few minutes of notoriety.

“It might change your opinion of the band. Of me,” Rafael warned and Sonny wondered if it mattered to Rafael what he thought of him.

He thought about it a moment, wondering what could be so bad, but found himself too curious not to find out. “I can handle it.”

Rafael nodded slowly, taking a breath, almost as if he were preparing himself. “Alex always fucked around,” he began and Sonny’s eyes widened. He supposed there would be no easing into it. “When we were on the road, every city, he’d bring someone back to the bus or hotel, even though he had Yelina at home. And why anyone would ever cheat on Yelina…” He shook his head before continuing.

“Anyway, Eddie and I, we didn’t like it, but he was a grown man and despite the fact that we told him over and over that he shouldn’t be doing it, in the end he made his own decisions. But then, during the last tour, I ran into this girl coming out of Alex’s hotel room. And I mean that literally. She couldn’t have been more than sixteen.”

Sonny knew the shock he was feeling was evident on his face, but he couldn’t help it. Of all the scenarios, he wasn’t expecting that one.

“Things were a mess after that. We found out that this wasn’t a one time thing. It had been going on for years, but he’d managed to hide it somehow. Eddie and I—we didn’t know what to do. It was such a mix of disgust and betrayal. It was hard to reconcile this man who would do this with the person we’d grown up with, loved, shared our life and livelihood with.

“We knew we couldn’t work with him anymore, that the band was over. Management decided that saying it was a hiatus so we could work on individual projects was the best way to go, so that’s what we did, and then we went our separate ways. Eddie was never really about the fame or the money. He just did it because it was fun. When it all came crashing down, he went back home, and I guess you know where I ended up. As for Alex, I couldn’t tell you, I haven’t seen or spoken to him since.”

The room was quiet a moment while Sonny processed all that he’d heard. Rafael was right about one thing, it did change his opinion of the band a little, but it was Rafael’s voice and lyrics that had made him love them in the first place and that hadn’t changed. “Why did you think that my opinion of you would change? You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Didn’t I?” Rafael grimaced. “I should have called the police and turned him in. I should have told the truth about why the band was breaking up, but instead I helped sweep it all under the rug. At the time I told myself that I still cared about Alex, that I was protecting Yelina from the public humiliation, but as the years have gone by I’ve wondered if I did it to spare myself.”

Sonny mulled that over, thinking carefully before he spoke. “Yes, Alex should have been punished. What he did was unthinkable, but I don’t think you’re a bad person for wanting to protect the music and yourself.”

“Yeah, well…” Rafael trailed off and then seemed to shake himself, sitting up a little straighter. “But you didn’t ask me here to ruin your memories. Let’s work on the song.”

And they did, tweaking and rewriting until it seemed perfect. They worked well together and it surprised Sonny, but Rafael actually listened to what he had to say and often agreed with his opinion, even if it was a bit begrudgingly.

“I don’t think we can do more than that,” Rafael said once Sonny had played the song all the way through, implementing their latest changes.

“Are you sure?” Sonny asked, even though he agreed. If he was being honest, he just really didn’t want his time with Rafael to end. It had been amazing, not only to get an insight into the way he worked and the raw talent he had when it came to crafting a song, but to also have him confide in him, to laugh and talk and get to know him. It was like a dream and he didn’t want it to be over.

“You can always work on something, pick it apart until the end of time, but that usually ends up just making it worse. You have to know when to stop,” Rafael said, already opening the case so he could put his guitar away. “It’s a good song, Sonny. Just trust in that.”

Sonny nodded, a thought occurring to him. It was a little scary, but so far every risk he’d taken with Rafael had paid off. “Do you want to sing it with me? On Tuesday? If you’re gonna be at the bar, I mean,” he added quickly.

Rafael looked at him a moment, thinking it over as he flipped the latches closed on his guitar case. “I’ll think about.”

Sonny grinned. At least it wasn’t a no.

* * *

Sonny wasn’t sure if Rafael would actually show the following Tuesday, he’d been too nervous to text him to ask, but he asked the bar to set up two mics just in case. He was hopeful that he would come, he’d seemed to be on board, but when Sonny took the stage, Rafael’s usual barstool was empty. 

Even as he started his set, he looked around the bar, thinking that maybe he was there, just not on his usual perch, but the crowd was thin like it typically was on a Tuesday night, and it was easy to see that he wasn’t there. Disappointment settled in his gut as he played through his first three songs.

But in the middle of the fourth, the door to the bar swung open and there was Rafael, looking handsome as ever in his uniform of black jeans and leather jacket. Sonny never faltered or lost his place, but he couldn’t help the grin that spread across his face even as he sang. He raised his eyebrows in Rafael’s direction, a silent question, and Rafael rolled his eyes before nodding.

After that, Sonny couldn’t get through the rest of his set fast enough. He was so excited to perform with Rafael. He was nervous too, but the thrill of singing a song together that they’d written overtook the nerves. Finally, he finished his last song and leaned into the mic with a smile.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we have an extra special treat for you tonight. This artist is one of my musical heroes and not only did he help me write this next song, but he’s agreed to perform it with me. Everyone, please help me welcome, the lead singer of Jerome Avenue, Rafael Barba.”

Everyone in the bar seemed to turn at once, watching Rafael as he made his way across the floor and up onto the stage, their phones out, snapping photos and videos, while providing a smattering of claps and cheers. It was funny, Sonny thought, Rafael had sat in this very bar on multiple occasions and he’d never seen anyone approach him (besides himself), but now they all seemed to recognize him.     

But looking over at Rafael, standing on the stage, hands on the mic as he thanked the crowd, Sonny understood it. Sitting at the bar, Rafael had been just a man, drinking and watching a show like everyone else, but the minute he’d turned to face the audience, he was a rock star. Even here, in a dive bar on a Tuesday, standing on an elevated platform that barely counted as a stage, something in him came alive.

Sonny began the song and soon their harmonies filled the room. It was the most fun Sonny had ever had and the feeling he felt as he watched Rafael’s eyes closed while he sang, giving the song everything he had, was unlike anything he’d ever felt before. He did his best to ignore it, trying to look out over the crowd instead, but his gaze kept going back to Rafael.

When it was over, the crowd cheered and Sonny’s heart thumped in his chest. If he could relive three minutes of his life over and over it definitely would be those he’d just spent performing with Rafael. “Thanks so much,” he remembered to say into the microphone. “I’ll be back here at Fin’s next Tuesday night.”

“Encore!” Someone yelled from the back.

And the rest of the crowd murmured their agreement, along with a chorus of “Yeah”s and “Play ‘If I Stay’!” It was Jerome Avenue’s biggest hit, the one that was still used on movie soundtracks and played at bars on throwback night.

Rafael laughed and looked over at Sonny who shrugged as if to say, ‘It’s up to you.’ “Do you know it?” he asked and Sonny smirked and began to play the opening chords, much to the enjoyment of the crowd.

More phones were in the air this time, recording as Rafael performed the song for the first time in nearly a decade, and the energy in the room was as high as Sonny had ever felt it. Even though he was on stage, playing the guitar, and singing the harmonies that had once belonged to Eddie, he felt their joy, their awe. And he knew he’d never experience anything like this again.

* * *

Sonny woke early the next morning, earlier than usual due to the way his phone was buzzing and chiming non stop. He wasn’t social media famous or anything, but he had a decent amount of followers from his music, but he’d never experienced anything like this. 

Overnight the video of he and Rafael performing together had gone viral. He wasn’t stupid, he knew it had nothing to do with him and everything to do with Rafael performing in public for the first time in years, but his phone was blowing up nonetheless.

It was a bit overwhelming. So overwhelming that he was contemplating turning his phone off and going back to sleep when someone began pounding on his apartment door. He frowned, throwing on a t-shirt and sweats. He rarely had anyone over, especially not this early in the morning.

Looking through the peephole, a little thrill went through him when he saw that it was Rafael, but it didn’t last long. He looked pissed. Really pissed.

“This is what you wanted all along isn’t it?” He practically barrelled through the doorway when Sonny pulled it open.

“What?”

“Articulate as always,” Rafael scoffed and Sonny was about to ask him what he was doing there, how he even knew where he lived, but before he could, Rafael tossed his phone at him. “This is what.”

Sonny caught the phone deftly even though he hadn’t been expecting it and turned it so that the screen was right side up. On it was an article, praising Sonny for doing the impossible and getting Rafael to perform in public for the first time in over ten years. It was one of the dozens that Sonny had already seen that morning.

“Plenty more where that came from,” Rafael complained. “You got your fifteen minutes. I hope you’re happy.”

Sonny shook his head, handing Rafael back his phone. “No, that’s not what it was about.”

“Sure it wasn’t.” Rafael shoved the phone in the back pocket of his jeans. “All that bullshit you spouted about how important my music was to you, it was all just you using me so that you could make a name for yourself. Well, congratulations, you did it.”

“No,” Sonny said again, more emphatically this time. “That’s not what I wanted. Not at all. I wanted—” He stopped, knowing that the next thing out of his mouth would be so much worse than what Rafael was accusing him of.

“What?” Rafael snapped. “What did you want.”

Sonny sighed, deciding that everything was ruined and he might as well burn it all down. “You.” It had been picking at him since that day in the studio, that fluttering feeling that he thought at first was just excitement from meeting one of his musical heroes, but that night, when they were on stage together, Sonny had realized that it was more than that.

Rafael was so much more than he’d ever thought he would be. He was smart and talented and passionate and funny, even though most of the time he didn’t intend to be. In such a short time Sonny had fallen for him. Hard. And now he was about to be crushed.

He waited for Rafael to laugh, but instead a fire burned in his eyes. Everything slowed for a moment, but then, before Sonny had even the movement, the other man had stepped forward, closing the space between them. He wrapped a large hand around the back of Sonny’s neck and pulled him in for a bruising kiss.  

For half a second Sonny felt the surprise and disbelief that this was actually happening, but then Rafael’s tongue was in his mouth and all he could think about was how good it felt.

It became a blur then, a flurry of lips and tongue, clothes tossed to the side, hands roaming, and before he knew it they were on Sonny’s bed, Rafael underneath him. It was surreal, all of it, but the waves of ecstasy that washed over him prevented Sonny from thinking about it too hard. And when he slid inside of Rafael, warm and tight and deep, he couldn’t think at all.

His body took over then, giving in to everything it had been wanting for weeks. Even after, as he lie next to Rafael on the bed, panting heavy, his brain buzzed and he wondered for a moment if this was the high that drug addicts felt. He understood the addiction for the first time because even though his body was dead weight, spent from having an orgasm to end all orgasms, all he could think about was how he wanted more.

That was until the bed shifted and he looked over to see Rafael swinging his feet to the floor.

“Where are you going?” Sonny propped himself up on his elbows, using all the strength he could muster at the moment, watching as Rafael began the scavenger hunt for his clothes.

“Look,” Rafael paused after pulling on his boxer briefs and Sonny couldn’t help but rake his eyes over his tan form. They’d been in such a hurry before he hadn’t gotten to fully appreciate Rafael’s body, but what a body it was. Hard and soft in all the right places. “You’re...gorgeous and talented and I’ll admit that I’m attracted to you. I mean, why else would I be in that shithole bar every Tuesday? But I’ve been here before and I know what this is, okay?”

His words had Sonny’s eyes stopping their tour of Rafael’s calves and moving back to his eyes. There was a look in them that Sonny hadn’t seen before. He almost looked...hurt. “And what is this?” Sonny asked, genuinely not knowing the answer. At least not what it was to Rafael.

“You’re a fan fulfilling a fantasy. And that’s okay. I’ve known that from the beginning, but it just means we don’t have to do the cuddling, let’s make pancakes thing.” Rafael pulled on his pants and walked to the doorway where his shirt had been tossed.

Sonny sat up now, feeling awkward now that he was the only one naked, but he had to fix this. “That’s not true.”

“It’s not?” Rafael’s mouth was fixed in a smirk when his head popped through the collar of his black t-shirt.

“I mean, yes, it’s true. I was—am—a fan, but that’s not what this was.” He pulled a pillow over his lap. “These past couple of weeks, getting to know you, you’re even more incredible than I ever dreamed. I wanted this because I want you, not what you are. And I swear, I asked you to perform with me because the song we wrote together is great and spending time with you that day, you letting me in, was the best day I’ve ever had and I just wanted to see you again.

“And if you want I’ll hire a lawyer and fight to have every single one of those videos down because I would never use you.”

Rafael looked around Sonny’s small, somewhat dingy bedroom, the tiniest of smiles on his face. “You’d hire a lawyer, huh?”

“Yes. I’d figure out the money somehow. Get a side job, sell my—” But he didn’t get to finish because Rafael had crossed the room and was kissing him again, his hands on either side of his face, sliding around to bury fingertips in his hair.

“You’re actually real, aren’t you?” Rafael asked breathlessly when they finally parted.

“Funny,” Sonny smiled, his lips swollen and kiss bruised. “I was about to ask you the same thing.”

Rafael chuckled then, deep and low, grabbing the pillow from Sonny’s lap and tossing it to the side before shoving him back onto the bed.

* * *

Sonny fidgeted in his seat, looking nervously around the small studio that was in the back corner of the Buzzpost office. He’d never done a real interview before and even though this one wasn’t for TV or anything, he was still nervous.

“Calm down,” a voice said from beside him and he looked over to see Rafael looking completely comfortable in his chair like this was any other day. Clearly all those years away from the spotlight hadn’t made him camera shy.

Rafael gave him a reassuring smile and Sonny felt his heartbeat kick up even more, only now it was for much different reasons.

“Hey guys, thanks for coming in,” the interviewer, Kelsey, said cheerfully as she approached them. She was a young brunette and looked to be straight out of college like practically everyone else in this office, but they’d all been welcoming and professional so far, so Sonny didn’t hold it against.

“Thanks for having us,” Rafael said, his easy, performer smile sliding across his lips.

“Are you kidding?” She asked excitedly as she shook their hands before taking her seat across from them. “Everyone is so excited about this album and we’re thrilled to be your first interview.”

She gave them a little run down of their process and the sound guys double checked their mics and before Sonny knew it, the cameras were rolling.

He was a bit stilted at first, letting Rafael take the lead since answers flowed smoothly from him, but after a couple of questions he relaxed and actually began to enjoy himself.

“Now,” Kelsey said, flipping to a new card in the stack she held in her hands. “Everyone assumes that this album, where you’ve collaborated to rework Jerome Avenue songs, stems from that performance in the bar last year that went viral, but how did that performance come about?”

“I had a regular gig at the bar,” Sonny explained. “And Rafael showed up a couple of times and I managed to talk him into doing some writing with me. And then everything else just kind of followed after that.”

“Rafael, this is a bit of a comeback for you. What made you decide that Sonny was the one to work with after all this time?”

“It’s more like Sonny chose me.” Rafael laughed and for the first time Sonny sensed a bit of nerves coming from his way. “I didn’t have any intention of ever performing again. I was sure those days were behind me, but,” he glanced over at Sonny, “sometimes you walk into a random bar for a drink on a Tuesday night and your life completely changes.”


End file.
